


Guess I'm Doing Fine

by takeintoaccount



Series: doing fine 'verse [1]
Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2167239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takeintoaccount/pseuds/takeintoaccount
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last night he'd dreamt about Uganda. And sitting here in the air conditioned building, smelling of cleaner and paper, it was all wrong. No one here wanted to talk about God or frogs or how the Book of Mormon related to Star Wars. No one here understood anything about his life. (Post-mission university story)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guess I'm Doing Fine

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in January 2012 for a fic challenge hosted by rockyrants on Tumblr. It's been sitting on my LJ account ever since, but I'm moving it here for kicks. The title is from a Beck song. The fic has nothing to do with said Beck song, I just liked the title.

There was a book open on the counter in front of him but he'd been on the same page now for at least fifteen minutes. Every time he looked back down at the words to start reading again, he'd reread the same sentence he'd read three minutes ago. Friday nights were always pretty dead at the library and this was no exception. He usually took advantage of the quiet to get ahead on the next week's homework, but not tonight. 

Last night he'd dreamt about Uganda. The heat of the afternoon sun burning into his neck as sweat ran down the small of his back. Nabulungi's smile. The smell of dust and food and smoke and dead things and _life_. The weight of the gospel in his hands as he flipped through the pages, grinning to himself as he listened to Arnold's new crazy way of connecting the stories to the lives of the villagers. Connor nudging him and stifling a snicker as they sat side by side on the rough wooden benches. 

He missed that place. With every fiber of his being. And sitting here in the air conditioned building, smelling of cleaner and paper, it was all wrong. No one here wanted to talk about God or frogs or how the Book of Mormon related to Star Wars. No one here understood anything about his life.

"Kevin! What do you think?"

The voice seemed louder than was right for a library, even if it was the front desk and not the stacks, and it made him jump. 

"What? About what?" he asked, swiveling his chair around to face his co-workers, gathered around one of the computers. There were books that needed shelving, the evening count still hadn't been done, but of course the two of them were watching Youtube videos with the volume turned low. He could hear it now that he was paying attention.

"Don't ask him," Sam laughed, punching Drew on the shoulder. "He's Mormon, remember? They don't watch TV."

Drew chuckled. "Oh yeah. Sorry 'bout that, honey boo-boo chil'!" he drawled.

Sam snorted so hard Kevin figured it must have hurt and Drew cracked up. Inside joke then, he figured. About what they were watching? It didn't matter. He didn't care.

He turned back to his book, but after reading that same sentence again he slammed it shut and slid it away. "I'm going to do the count," he said as he stood up and walked out from behind the counter. Neither Sam nor Drew responded and he kicked the first step a little in frustration as he marched upstairs.

That was the closest he ever got to talking about religion these days. When someone made a snide comment about it. Who were they all, anyway? To expect him to come back and just be _normal_ again after those two years away. 

His phone beeped in his pocket, an incoming text. He slipped into the stacks and fished the little thing out of his pocket. _Best friend! Everything alright, buddy?_ Arnold. Kevin couldn't help but give a twitch of a smile.

_Why wouldn't it be?_ he texted back.

_Hah. Dumb question, my friend. Connor says you never responded to his email. Allow me to inform you that that is kind of a douche move._

Kevin sighed and closed his eyes for a minute. Of course Connor would tell Arnold that Kevin had never responded to his emails. Probably made Arnold promise not to say anything too. _Look I know you must be feeling the same way I do,_ the most recent email had said, _no one to talk to, dying to talk about God but not wanting to bring it up because it just wouldn't be the same. Can we just forget about the things we said in Uganda and go back to being friends? I miss you. And I know we can help keep each other sane._

Of course Connor was feeling the same way he was. The others? Well, he never really got as close to the others as he did to Connor and Arnold. And Arnold somehow always managed to adjust amazingly well to any situation. Plus, he still had Nabulungi. She made a trip to the city once every other week to keep in touch with everyone and Kevin knew for a fact that she sent extra emails to Arnold on those days.

But Connor. 

"Kev, you have to know how I feel about you. There is no way that we've been...whatever, for this long and you don't," Connor had said to him the last night.

Kevin had kicked some dirt against the paneling of the missionary house. "Of course I know! But I thought we'd agreed never to talk about it!"

"When? Tell me when we agreed to do that!"

"You know when! Look why did you even have to bring it up?"

Connor's jaw had dropped a little. "Because it's our last night here, that's why. Because I thought that maybe you'd gotten over yourself by now. That maybe you'd admitted to yourself who you really are. I thought _maybe_ we could support each other when we get back home. That _maybe_ we could see how we are together away from all of this. That _maybe_ you and I could…" his face was red with his mounting anger. 

Kevin had balled his hands into fists. "You thought what? That after one mistake everything would be peachy? Because news flash, Connor! Things are not going to be peachy back home! You family will hate you. Your friends will shun you. I'm not going to subject myself to all of that because I accidentally kissed you one time."

"Wow. Okay. It was more than one time." Connor's voice had been quiet and Kevin had had to strain a little to hear it.

"Fine. Several times. But it was a mistake every time it happened."

Connor had sat down on the ground, back against the house. He'd closed his eyes and let out a low, quiet whistle. "Okay," he’d finally said. Kevin had whipped around to stare at him, surprised that he'd let it go so easily. "Okay I'm sorry I brought it up. I'll see you in the morning, Elder Price."

Kevin opened his eyes, pulling himself back to the real word, shaking his head and taking a deep breath before letting it back out in a hiss. He'd been in the wrong that night, he'd known it. But he'd dug himself too deep to apologize. God, Connor was a saint to try to reach out to him after all of that. And here Kevin was, doing nothing about it, staring guiltily as each email came in, hating himself as he re-read them again and again before moving them to the trash. His life had been so easy before Uganda. He couldn't believe that not five minutes ago he'd been missing the place. What was he thinking.

It's none of your business, he snapped in a text back to Arnold before shoving his phone back into his pocket and starting off back to the main aisle to begin the count that had brought him upstairs in the first place.

The beep of a new text stopped him just as he got to the end of the stacks. Sighing, he pulled his phone back out. _It is when you both are my friends and I care about you. You were so awesome together. Just get over whatever it is that's the problem, I'm sure it's not that big of an issue. You guys go to the same school for Pete's sake._

Yeah, that was the other thing. He and Connor had ended up at the same university. Kevin was pretending it had been chance. And why did Arnold have to try to make everything so simple? It wasn't that easy. It never could be. _You email Naba tomorrow, right? Tell her hi from me._

And when the phone beeped again, he ignored it. 

 

***

_Had to get a new cell service. Here's my new number! Would love to hear from you all!_ A new email from Connor sat open in Kevin's inbox as he stared at it. The first one in a couple of months, and it wasn't even really for him. It was a group email. Before he could stop himself, Kevin pulled out his phone and keyed in the new digits under Connor's contact info. He hid the phone under an engineering textbook before he could change his mind and delete it, then skimmed the rest of the email. Something about a show that Connor was going to be in. The annual university musical. _Just in the ensemble, of course! I'm still new at all of this after all. But I would love it if some of you came. Let me know if you do!_

Of course Connor would be in the musical. He'd always liked that. Kevin snorted as he remembered a play that the elders had all organized for the kids in a nearby village. Connor taking lead, grinning so big as the children had laughed and clapped at the end, inviting them onstage to play with the homemade costumes, dancing around with them. It had been the end of the rainy season, and for once Uganda was green and smelled of earthy beauty. The sun had been bright that day, and had made Connor's hair look extra red. 

Kevin shook himself out of his reverie and deleted the email.

"What put that dopey smile on your face?" asked a sunny voice. 

He quit the web browser and turned to face Laura. She was his favorite co-worker. Always so nice and bright and never minded when he got lost in his head, or talked too much about Africa. 

"Nothing," he said quickly. 

"Uh huh," Laura teased. She grinned at the person she was helping as she stamped a due date into the back of the book being checked out. He saw her wink at the student. "He's got a _special friend_ " she stage whispered. "He always gets like a thirteen year old girl whenever he gets an email from them."

"Shut up, Laura," he said, finding the shelving cart suddenly very interesting. He hadn't gotten an email from Connor in ages, how could she possibly know it was him he’d just been thinking of?

The student left and Laura turned her full attention back to Kevin. "So? Connor?"

"How do you - " he cut himself off but it was too late. Laura looked delighted.

"You haven't heard from him in a while!" she said. "What'd he say this time? And were you still a douche in response?"

"I don't respond to him."

"My point exactly."

"Laura…"

"Kevin…"

Kevin sighed and made his way back to the chair at the desk. Laura leaned back against the counter next to him and smiled sympathetically.

"Kev, you know it's not a bad thing to be gay, don't you?"

One night, not long after having met Laura, the two of them had ended up at a party neither one really wanted to be at. They hadn't noticed they were each there at first and so had both tried to escape the awkwardness of everyone else by drinking more. That didn’t turn out very well. Nabulungi had emailed Kevin earlier that day and he'd been feeling extra morose and so, when Laura-the-nice-girl-from-the-library had plopped herself down next to him against a tree in the backyard of whosever house they were at and announced how much the party sucked, he'd burst into tears and blurted out everything to her. From the beginning. 

They didn't talk about it.

Well, they did. But not about the crying thing. She never let him forget about the Connor thing, though.

"So you say," Kevin said quietly in response to her question.

"Aw, Kev. So I'll always say. Until you believe me." She patted his shoulder gently, rubbing it for a brief second. "I know you know it's not bad, but I don't think you believe it yet. You'll get there." 

He shrugged and spun his chair around once, then twice. "He's in the musical," Kevin finally said, looking up at Laura. She blinked, then her whole face brightened. 

"You're going," she said, matter-of-factly.

"No," he started.

"No whining. No protesting. You're going."

And you're going to see him. And you're going to remember that you miss him. And you're going to remember that…Kevin filled in, in his head. He groaned.

"Look, Kev. I know that things really sucked that last night in Uganda. But that was pretty much all on you, buddy. It's been like six months since then," Laura started, using her authoritative voice now.

"Yeah, but," Kevin interrupted.

"No buts! Just listen for a second. You talk about him a lot. You talk about all of them a lot. I don't think even you realize how much you miss them because you're always trying to convince yourself that you don't. And I love hearing your stories but I'll never understand your life. Not like Arnold does, or Nabulungi does. Or Connor. Especially Connor. You kind of ruined it for yourself that night, but Connor gave you an out, you know. That was why he was emailing you. He was telling you that it's okay, he wants your friendship still and he’ll give you time. He was telling you that he's just as lost as you are and that the door is open when you want to walk through it."

Kevin bit his lip. Laura knew too much for her own good. 

A student on the other side of the counter cleared her throat. Both Kevin and Laura started. "Oh! Sorry! Didn't see you there," Laura said, pulling her stack of books forward to check them out. When she was done, she turned back to Kevin. "It's just a musical. Just go. I promise you won’t regret it. I'll not speak to you for at least several hours if you don't."

Kevin stood up and walked back over to the shelving cart. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered.

 

***

 

He was running. But he wasn't running fast enough. Every gasped breath burned his lungs, scraped against his throat painfully. His thighs ached, knees and ankles twinged with every impact against the hard earth. Fear. Fear invaded every cell of his being. It ate at his mind and confused his motions. He wanted to look behind himself, but he didn't dare. He had to just keep running forward.

He could hear people behind him, hear them shouting, their angry yells getting closer. They were throwing things at him, rocks that hit his back, stinging on impact. He was clutching something in his hand, he could feel it. But when he glanced down, his eyes tricked him and all he saw was blood, dripping through his fingers. 

He stumbled over his feet and fell, cracking a knee against hard-packed dirt. And whoever it was behind him caught up. His nose slammed against the ground as they pushed him down and tears sprang up in his eyes as he felt blood start to pour down across his lip and into the dust. A sharp inhale brought nothing but a mouth full of grit and he tried to spit, but a heavy boot colliding into his back made him cough and choke instead.

They were grabbing at his pants. So many hands. His forehead hit the dirt road as someone smacked him hard across the back of the head with a book and he grunted in pain. His book, he remembered. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest and it hurt, oh it hurt, and he heard laughter and a nasty voice telling him where the book belonged.

And then the scene changed. And he was burning, melting, his hands disappearing in a river of lava as he tried to push himself up and into a sitting position. And all around him a confusing mass of people and _things_ danced and cat-called and yelled. And there was Connor, an evil grin on his face, beckoning him forward. And then a whip snapped across his back and he felt blood trickle down his skin and wondered when he'd lost his shirt.

There was noise, all around, so much, too much, and laughter and screams and he couldn't focus. There was something wrong with Connor and he wanted to help but he couldn't. There were chains around his wrists and hooks that dug into his sides, dragged him backward and upward, hung him from an invisible ceiling. He'd been here before, so many times. Any moment now he'd hear the words. The words telling him that he was nasty and evil and that nothing could save him, that he was worse than anything else in the world, deserved no better company than those who occupied hell. And then he'd hear another voice, a laughing voice, welcoming him home, telling him he'd be happy here, and it would scratch at his very soul and he would remember his family and how he'd betrayed them. 

Connor was always there, smiling a horrid toothy smile, so twisted, different, perverted from the one he was used to seeing across Conner's face, big and sunny and beautiful. And he would know with that thought that he deserved all of this. And all around him would be torture, and they would kill him, over and over again, only to bring him back to life and start the process all over again. Gone were the dancing coffee cups and the donuts, the worst things he could imagine just those few short years ago. And instead, in their place, the things around him would taunt him, would call his name repeatedly, "Kevin! Kevin!" and would show him Connor dying again and again. And sometimes they would make him kill Connor, just to prove they could. And if he didn't, they'd skin him, burn him, crush him into nothingness. And all the while they would tell him it was his fault. And he would believe them.

He was running. But he wasn't running fast enough.

And suddenly, he was awake. His face was wet, the pillow and sheets too, from tears and sweat and fear. And he could hardly breathe. And his limbs shook but he couldn't move, lying paralyzed with fear for minutes, maybe longer. Finally, one by one, his muscles relaxed and he was able to convince his body to turn over to face the empty room and the red numbers on his clock, taunting him that it was only 3:37 in the morning, letting him know that no more sleep was going to be had that night.

He pushed himself up and leaned against the headboard. He reached his arm out and pulled his computer from the nightstand and into his lap. And he wrote an email.

_Do you still have hell dreams?_ he typed. _Horrible ones? I do. I thought I'd gotten over those, you know. I still had some, but they weren't nearly as bad. And when I woke up, I would just roll over and breathe for a little bit because Arnold was there in the next bed, snoring, and you were there, in the next room over. And Poptarts. And Davis. But now they're worse, so much worse. And when I wake up, I've forgotten the good parts of Uganda. I've forgotten the fun we had. And I know that part of the reason I'm crying is because I know you won't be there in the morning, to take one look at my face and just know and then smile calmly at me and tell me the story of when you ate that cockroach Nabulungi gave you and make me feel better. Make me forget. Instead, I just dream of you. I know you don't believe me, but it's better this way. That's why I said no that night. I know I would just make your life worse. So stop trying to change my mind._

He sent it before he realized what he’d done and he regretted it the moment he did. The hot water beating down on him from the shower head in the bathroom some ten minutes later made him forget, but only for a second.

The computer was still glowing on his nightstand when he got back to his room. He brushed a hand across the mouse and the screen came alive. A new email was in his inbox. He glanced at the clock. 4:42 am. Frowning, he opened it. 

_Come to the musical on Saturday. And then come talk to me after. Please._

He closed the laptop and crawled back under the covers to wait until the sun came up.

 

***

 

"Am I gay?"

Laura looked up from her notebook and squinted at Kevin. "Oh honey," she said, her face softening and her voice doing something Kevin had never heard before. A kind of choked, cut-off sound, sad but still so sweet.

He sat down next to her, in the shade of a willow in the courtyard of the humanities building. His throat felt tight and he was dangerously close to tears. He and sleep had not been on good terms for days.

"Only you can answer that question," Laura said, resting her head against his shoulder and reaching over to squeeze his hand. "You know what I'm going to say now?"

Kevin barked out a short laugh. "It's not bad to be gay."

"Got it in one. True as always."

"I know. It's just." He broke off and stared out across the lawn. "You don't understand," he finally said.

"I know I don't. But you can still tell me."

"It never even crossed my mind, before," Kevin said. "Things were just always how they were. My family loved me and I loved God and that was all there was to life. And then Uganda ruined it all."

Laura let the silence rest between them for a while when he paused. Then she sighed. "Uganda didn't ruin it. It just showed you there was more."

"If only I hadn't met him."

"Connor?"

Kevin nodded miserably.

"If it wasn't him, it would've been someone else. If you're gay, you would have figured it out sooner or later, with or without Connor's help."

Kevin closed his eyes. "I used to be happy, you know. I used to be a joy to be around."

Laura laughed. "You'll get back there again some day. You're just transitioning."

Kevin snorted. "Transitioning."

"Well, it's true! You spent two years of your life in a place most people wouldn't even know where to find on a map! You made a difference in so many peoples' lives. You lived with friends who believed in what you believed in, who supported you, and who loved you. And you loved and supported them right back. Now you're in a city surrounded by people many of whom haven't even left the country, who know nothing about what you believe in, what you did. You live in a boringly normal apartment with a roommate who's never around and you do boringly normal things like study and work. And probably none of it feels like it's making a difference. You're still figuring out how to navigate this world and no one can blame you for that."

Kevin pulled Laura close in a tight hug, not letting her go for a long moment. 

"Kevin, it's no wonder you're having a hard time when, on top of all of that, you have to figure yourself out. If what you feel for a pretty, nice boy was just the intensity of an intimate and strangely different life together or a life changing realization of who you are." Laura met Kevin's gaze and held it. "You have to understand that you're not alone. You have me, and if you'd let yourself, you'd have Connor too."

Kevin nodded. "I know. I know." He glanced over at her forgotten notebook. "Go back to studying. I'll just be here taking a nap."

Laura grinned and patted her lap. "Rest your weary soul, my child."

 

***

 

Kevin was shaking a little as he waited in the hall of the theater building. The musical had been awesome, had left his veins throbbing with the songs and dances. But he could hardly remember what it was even about. Any moment that Connor wasn't onstage was a moment of attention wasted in waiting for him to come back out. 

He glanced at his cell phone, thumbing the display alive to look at the time. He'd been waiting for twenty-five minutes now. Everyone else had come out from backstage, had left. Some had walked past in groups, laughing and bouncing along rehashing every second, talking loudly over one another about minuscule mistakes only they would have noticed. A few had walked by on their own, had spared him a glance and a polite smile. But none had been Connor. Maybe he'd gone out another way. Kevin had never actually told him he was coming. Maybe Connor had figured he wouldn't come. Maybe Kevin should just leave. What was he doing here anyway? Like Connor would really want to see him. Kevin had ruined it, had let it get past the point of no return.

He locked his touch screen again and gripped the phone tightly. Spinning around, he made to leave.

"Kevin?"

He stopped dead in his tracks but didn't turn back around. 

"Kevin, hey! I'm sorry. God. They used too much wig glue tonight and we couldn't get my hair off. I'm sorry. Have you been waiting long? What am I saying, of course you have. I'm sorry."

Connor was level with Kevin now, and stopped. Kevin turned to face him, a fake smile plastered across his face.

Connor's face fell a little and Kevin felt like a horrible human being. "I just wanted to say good job tonight," he said. "That's all."

"Oh." Connor wrung his hands for a moment before letting out a breath. "Okay. Well. Thanks. It was good to see you."

"You too." And then Kevin walked away. 

 

***

 

_You're an ass._ Kevin groaned as he read the text from Arnold.

_What have I told you about minding your own business, man?_

_That I shouldn't? You don't get to brush this one off. The cards were in your hand, pal, and you played a bad move. I don't know how to help you two anymore._

_No one asked for your help._

The phone didn't beep for a reply after that one and Kevin tossed it back into his backpack and pushed his way into the classroom.

 

***

 

"Kevin. You look like shit."

"Thanks Laura."

"Look, your friend, Arnold right? He and I are Facebook friends."

Kevin looked up from his shelving cart and stared at Laura. He didn't really know what she was doing in the stacks with him. He'd volunteered to do the shelving today mostly because he didn't want to have to deal with Sam and Drew. Laura wasn't even supposed to be working tonight. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Laura waved a hand a little angrily. "That's not the point. The point is that Arnold messaged me on Facebook. Told me what he knew about what happened at the musical. Okay, one? You're a dick for not telling me you’d decided to go. I could have helped you out. And two? You're kind of just a dick."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You know you're doing this to yourself, right?"

Kevin didn't answer. He just shoved a book hard onto the shelf. It knocked its neighbor down. He picked that one up and put it back with only slightly more care.

"Kevin, you probably think I don't know you very well, but you’re wrong. I do know you. And I know that hidden behind this miserable, dickish shell that you've surrounded yourself with is a loving, fun, awesome person. And I know you wouldn't have gone to that musical if you hadn't been wanting to try to fix things with Connor."

"You don't know the half of it, Laura. So just quit trying to _fix_ everything!" Kevin hissed, trying to keep his voice down.

"You're right. You didn't tell me everything that happened that night in Uganda. So maybe you were an unforgivable, horrible person that night, but the point is that Connor forgave you _anyway._ That's why he wrote you, and called you, and made the effort to be your friend again. It's you who can't forgive yourself. For whatever messed up reasons inside your head you think you're doing everyone a favor by pretending Uganda didn't happen. And in your effort to forget the bad, you're also forgetting the good. And it's turning you into a dick."

"Stop calling me a dick! Jesus! Look, even if Connor did forgive me, he doesn't anymore. Arnold said it. You said yourself, I ruined my last chance. It's for the best, this way. He'll see that soon enough. We…we lived in a bubble in Uganda. Here we have our families, our church, all against us. He thinks this can be a happy ending, but it _can't_."

"Why not?"

"Laura, every freaking night I have horrible nightmares! I'm in hell and they make me hurt him, kill him, over and over. And they tell me that this is what would happen if we were together."

Laura's mouth snapped shut and she stared at Kevin for a long moment. "And you believe them?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because it's a _nightmare,_ Kevin! Because it's not real."

"You don't think it's real? You don't think that if Connor and I tried to be together that his family would make his life hell? That they would disown him? Or try to fix him with some kind of messed up program? Stifle his life with ‘well intentioned’ prayers? That mine wouldn't do the same to me? You don't get it. You never will."

Laura didn't say anything, but she continued to stand there. Kevin ignored her and went back to shelving the books. After several minutes, he glanced over at her from the corner of his eye. She was staring down the row with an odd expression on her face, a mix of trepidation and relief. He looked over. And dropped the books he was holding.

"Hey," said Connor, coming closer.

"Did you…" Kevin started to ask.

"Hear all that? Yeah, Kev. Pretty sure the entire library heard all that."

"And this is where I take my leave," Laura said, backing away from the boys unnoticed.

Kevin stared at Connor, then deliberately turned away to pick up his dropped books. "I meant what I said."

Connor sighed and knelt down to help him. “I know you think you’re helping me, but how about you let me make my own decisions?” he said as he stood back up and held the books out to Kevin, who didn’t take them. Connor rolled his eyes, set them on the car, then leaned against the shelves and settled there. “I meant what I said too."

"What did you say?"

"That I miss you."

Kevin didn't answer. "You just miss Uganda," he said finally.

"I miss Uganda too, yes. I miss Nabulungi. And Hatimbi. And Elder Davis. And Poptarts. And the kids from the next village over. And Arnold's stupid laugh and your burnt eggs and Asmeret's baby and playing soccer in the roads and the way you and Davis used to act out Arnold's stories and so much more."

The two were quiet, just a soft thunk as each book hit its spot on the shelf. Kevin felt that nostalgia creeping up on him again, could practically smell the dust in the air and hear far off singing. 

"Kevin. I spent a lot of time in Uganda figuring out things about myself that I used to never let into my head. I credit a lot of that to you. Before you and Arnold first arrived and that huge mess happened with the mission president, we were all so worried about sticking to the rules that we forgot how to live life. You were the one who changed that, remember? 'Fuck him,' I think it was that you said? What happened to you?"

Kevin shrugged.

"Well, I think I would understand better than you think I would if you would just tell me."

Kevin finished the row and pushed the cart over to the next aisle. Connor followed. "You know," he said, almost conversationally. "You never asked why I emailed you back at four thirty in the morning last week."

Kevin stopped the cart at the farthest back shelf then finally turned to look at Connor head on, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why did you email me back at four thirty in the morning last week, Connor?" he asked, his voice flat.

"Because I'd been having the hell dreams too. Because I was freaked out and annoyed and had thought they were done too."

Kevin let his arms fall to the side. "This fucking sucks," he said, resigned.

"What?"

"What we've done to ourselves."

"Yep."

"Well, what I've done."

"No argument from me."

"I miss you too."

"I know you do."

"Why do you even want to forgive me still?"

"Because, believe it or not, I still like you and you're still my closest friend."

Kevin smiled a little and watched as Connor's face softened. He stuck out his hand. "I'm sorry?"

Connor pushed his hand away, instead pulling him in for a hug. "I'm sorry too."

“This isn’t going to be easy. I’m kind of a dick.”

Connor laughed. “Man, if you think I don’t know everything about you, you’re wrong. And guess what? Yep, still like you. You’re only a dick some of the time. The rest of the time, you’re actually pretty incredible.”

Kevin muttered something into Connor’s shoulder. Connor stepped away. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.” His smile was wide and infectious and Kevin felt his chest constrict with hope.

“I said, ‘you too.’”

 

***

 

_Awake?_

_I am now._

_Sorry._

_Not a problem._

_It was the one about the book again. When the general got me with the book._

_Want me to come over? I can bring popcorn and we can talk. Or watch a movie or something._

_No. That's okay. I'm already getting tired again._

_At least we've got something to look forward to tomorrow, right? Spring break. Arnold. Naba._

_DisneyWorld._

_DisneyWorld. Of course. I forgot._

_I don't think we can be friends anymore._

_Hah. You can't escape from me this time._

_Guess I wouldn't want to anyway. Who would cheer me up when I dream about horrible warlords shoving books up my ass?_

_Who would smother you with hugs and kiss your forehead and rub your back and sneak you coffees?_

_Laura._

_Oh I see how it is._

_Just kidding._

_Go back to bed. I'll be over at 7. If you get back to sleep now you can still have a couple of hours._

_Mmm. As you wish._

_Night, Kev._

_Night._


End file.
